Page 4 of Laird Of Her Heart

“To be fair, that is a very old oven.”

“It probably came with the house.” The house was nearly a century old.

“Take-out then?”

Maggie hid her smile. She’d been angling for take-out all along. “Pizza?”

“With olives?”

It was Maggie’s turn to hack and gag. “Olives are disgusting. Pineapple.”

“Pineapple has no place on a pizza.”

“My turn to cook, remember?”

“Making a phone call does not count as cooking.”

“Okay. Half…” Shudder. “Olives and half pineapple?”

“Deal.”

Maggie set aside her book and stood. As she headed across the porch, Jenny warbled, “And don’t forget the anchovies!”

“Gross.”

When she opened the door, something small and furry and white shot out, darted between her legs and fairly flew down the steps into the yard. “Shit,” she muttered and let the screen door close. “Mop got out. Will you go get him?”

Jenny frowned at the dog as he disappeared into the woods. “You let him out.”

“But I need to ‘make dinner’.” Total air quotes there.

“I’ll call for pizza. You get the dog.”

“Oh, all right.” Maggie sighed and tramped back down the stairs. Damn dog. It was getting dark and the little twerp might get snatched by a coyote. Though they were technically in the Seattle city limits, their property was on a hill, surrounded by old growth forest for miles. Grandma and Grandpa had resisted all offers to buy them out. And with all the construction making incursions into their habitats, critters tended to flock to this forest. They’d even once spotted a bear.

Maggie had to go get him. He was Grandma’s darling; she would be devastated if anything happened to him. But in all honesty, Grandma should have warned them he was an escape artist when she handed over the leash. He was named Mop because he looked like one with all that scraggly hair. Maybe they should use him as one.

Maggie sighed and set out for the woods, but turned back to waggle a finger at her cousin. “You better not forget the pineapples on that pizza.”

Jenny’s grin was disarming. “You better take a flashlight,” she chirped. “Last time it took me a couple hours to find him.”

* * *

Maggie was glad she’d brought the flashlight, because even though the sun was still sinking, once she got deep into the trees, it was hard to see. And Mop was small. Why old women went for the tiny yippy dogs was a mystery. In Maggie’s mind it wasn’t a real dog unless it could knock her down.

She shined the beam into the scrub and called him. “Mop? Moppie? I have nom noms for you.” She didn’t. It was a lie. But it hardly mattered since the stupid mutt didn’t even speak English.

She heard a bark from her right, little more than a canine taunt. She growled to herself and forged off in that direction. And yeah, there he was, dancing around in circles. But when she neared, he took off again.

This happened several times, luring her deeper and deeper into the woods. She hoped she could find her way back since for some reason the dog refused to use the path.

“Mop, get your ass over here,” she bellowed when she just missed him again. Not that she was getting annoyed. But she was.

Maybe her frustration penetrated his tiny little brain, because the next time she spotted him—in a clearing—he stood still, waiting for her to approach. Her steps slowed as she neared. Not because she wanted to sneak up on him, but because the clearing where he stood was…strange.

She couldn’t put her finger on why it sent shivers up her spine, but it did. Though the trees surrounding it were large and dense, nothing grew here. The forest floor was dirt—not even ferns or mushrooms or moss. To her surprise, she realized there were what looked like ancient stones circling it. When she stepped between two of the pillars, a bolt of electricity shot through her. When she touched one, it happened again. She drew back and studied it, noting the markings on the face of the column. She didn’t understand the symbols carved there, even though, as a historian, she’d studied hieroglyphics and cuneiform. These markings were unfamiliar. Rune-like, perhaps.

Very curious.